Umbrella
by BluePhyre
Summary: On the rainy streets of London, it was her simple black umbrella that brought the two lovers together, and a country that tore them apart. A single tear rolled down her cheek as she realized that they could not share her umbrella forever. B/E, AU.
1. Chapter One: The London Rain

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. And while it has probably grossed enough to buy out the Queen of England, I'm pretty sure I don't want to.**

Hello, my friends. This is another fanfic. Yes, another one. It's cliche, because, well, it's Twilight. It just has to be cliche, and that's that. I thank you for reading this, for giving my humble story a chance. And why am I so polite and detached about this? Well, it probably has something to do with the fact that I'm not obsessed with Twilight anymore. In fact, it's lost its appeal completely. But that's okay, because when I started this, I was told it was good, so I owe it to myself and to everyone else to put this up, because I worked like Hell on it. Kay? Well, have fun reading. Here's _Umbrella's_ debut.

-

-

-

Chapter One

**The London Rain**

"Alright, students," Professor Callahan barked, "we're done for today!" And then, heaving a sigh, he snapped his big, intimidating black binder shut. Inside it undoubtedly laid a brochure wonderland, lesson plans, and, most importantly, our grades. I gulped nervously. Callahan was a wild card. You could never be sure about what horrible, horrible things that grade book of his held. So many of my now-graduated friends had learned this the hard way.

"You don't have to go home," he continued, screaming over the dull chatter that was my class, "but you can't stay here! Now, scatter, my pets, scatter!" I sighed, bringing a well-deserved slap to my forehead as my college professor continued to make a fool of himself.

The boy behind me, too, seemed peeved at the Professor's outbursts. "This is public property, sir," he muttered bitterly. That was Eric Yorkie, one of my classmates that actually managed to be geekier than his name suggested, and he was standing… right behind me. Literally. Somehow, I brought myself to shake my head in mild amusement and glance around Hyde Park aimlessly. By now, my classmates had swarmed off in different directions, heading to what they had claimed as their local hangouts.

As I was left - mostly - alone, shivers ran down my spine; I could feel Eric's hot breath wafting against the back of my neck. Just… too close. Really, I needed my personal bubble. My personal bubble was my prized possession, and Eric… well, he was bursting it quite easily. He was… the stalker type. That was pretty much his personality description. Too close, too creepy, too fixated. I, unfortunately, found myself as the object of his obsession. Oh, how I have horrible, horrible luck…

Rather than succumb to the eeriness, I grasped onto my umbrella tightly, watching the raindrops form streams as they trickled off the top of my small, rather ratty black umbrella. They fell to the sidewalk with tiny splashes that left my suede boots ruined, and my feet within in damp, cold, and probably edging towards a dark shade of blue.

And as I was absorbed by the discomfort of my shoes, Alice, my best friend in the world and the one who had forced me into said shoes, trotted over to my side. It couldn't be called a trot, really. She glided, she floated, she danced across the ground, like a graceful swan. Me, I stumbled, tripped, traipsed drunkenly across the ground on my better days. I made the tiny girl beside me look so much better, if she even needed that. Alice Brandon was a gorgeous, tiny, cute thing with short, spiky black hair, giant, knowing silver eyes, and pixie-like features that gave her the appearance of a winter sprite on rainy days such as this. She had a bounce in her step, and I had a limp in mine in comparison. And yet, I loved her so much. You know, in a totally straight, best friend, bordering on sister way.

With an enticing smile that could charm a cat into water, she linked her arm with mine and pulled my attention downward. Downward meaning… a little under a foot. I wasn't abnormally tall - well, with heels, I was almost as tall as my other best friend, Rosalie Hale, who happened to be a model - but instead, Alice was short. No, she was tiny. She was the type of person that you would expect to get stepped on in a crowd. It was like walking in New York City with a child. You didn't want to let someone as tiny as her out of your sight. And even then, looks were deceiving. Alice, when young, had gotten a black belt in karate, was about as strong as any professional rugby player, and had enough sass to beat anyone up if they messed with her. Nope, Alice was perfectly fine without me looking out for her with a magnifying glass. The roles were reversed, really…

"I'll meet up with you at the café in a few, okay, Bells?" she asked, though it wasn't really that much of a question, because it was Alice, and she wore the pants between us two, even if she loved skirts to death and I was deathly afraid of the things because of my inability to walk over a flat surface without falling. Well, it didn't help that I was morbidly afraid of being a girly girl, also…

"Alice," I moaned, trying to tug my arm away from her grip as she stared up at me, pleading and demanding at the same time. "Don't leave me here alone!" She smiled coyly, something that really meant she was up to absolutely no good, and a wise glimmer flashed through her gray eyes for a moment before disappearing from my suspicions. She wasn't going to comply, I knew it… Oh, how she loved to torture me… "Come on," I begged, "I'll even go shopping with you! You can play Bella Barbie again, as long as you don't leave me alone with Count Dweeb-ula over there." I jabbed a finger in Eric's direction for emphasis, as if ti wasn't obvious enough…

Alice only laughed and shook her head, puling out and opening her own bright, annoyingly pink umbrella. "I've seen something, Bella," she chided, a knowing, somewhat teasing look replacing whatever there was before in her expression, "and it's the chance of a lifetime that I can't let you pass up. You thank me for this in the long run, Bella." There was a lull in the conversation, and, glancing down the cobblestone path, then back at me, she sighed. "The very, very long run, I should think. I'll apologize in advance for anything I might cause."

"How convenient," I hissed, rolling my eyes and scowling as I refused to meet her eyes. I didn't want to see the excitement and hope in her eyes, because that was all for me. She wanted my life to get better by this, and I was being stubborn and stupid. I should accept her advice, because it's the most important of all, sometimes. It's because of her gift, because of her sight. Her sight into the future.

And it was because I knew her secret, the secret she kept from even her own parents, that I mentally resigned to whatever future she was pushing me towards. "Goodbye, Alice," I groaned, and she beamed up at me from her height of four feet, ten inches, no more, no less. Then, with a short, bone-crushing hug, she skipped off in the opposite direction she had pointedly stared off into before, already plotting how much she would spend on her daily shopping spree. It would be about ten times more that she planned, as usual. It was a relief that her parents made a Hell of a lot of money. I don't think Alice could survive without her shopping…

"Okay, I love you!" she cried over her shoulder, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "Buh-bye!" Instead, I looked to the darkening sky - as if that was possible, since it already seemed like night here in London - to make sure I wasn't about to be maimed by a falling anvil, safe, piano, or any other totally cliché, extremely heavy object. Buttons had it hard, my friends.

I groaned and began my trek along the deathly slippery rock path with none other than Eric close behind, following with all the grace of an amputee water buffalo. I huffed; he was stealing my gig. But eventually, he seemed to fade off into the background, and I knew he had gotten bored; out of all his vastly numbered, highly-nerdified brain cells, Eric Yorkie couldn't use a singe one to figure out a sufficient way to hide, unless he was in the middle of a terribly hard World of Warcraft battle. Now, with my luck, I would just get lost instead.

My college course, World Cultures, had taken off on a six-month trip around the world. Since Alice and I had taken and completed every other course we needed, our absence wasn't problematic. After all, the trip had started before school in August. So would be back in Phoenix by the end of February – in just a little over a month.

We were in London, the last stop on our trip. And, as great as it sounded, it was still school. Somehow, Alice had spotted our own little place to relax after classes: Twilight Café.

Twirling my umbrella slowly – and thinking back to the last time I had watched "Singing in the Rain" – I strutted lethargically down the tree-lined trail and watched the specks that were my classmates slip past the horizon.

I could still hear their whiny complaints about the constant rainfall of the British winter, but I didn't mind. I knew – having grown up in Forks, Washington, one of the rainiest places on Earth – rain was better than snow.

But my peers had been foolish. The women expected castles and hunky – not to mention rich – men to sweep them off their feet and shower them in jewels. The men were looking for the foreign beauty of British women and meaningless flings. All they got was rain.

But I had known better. I had long ago given up such childish dreams, and let my only expectations be horrible. That way I would always be surprised for the better. And Alice, well, she had gotten exactly what she wanted: amazing shopping.

Eventually, my feet began to ache like Hell – probably a blistered mess beneath layers of ruined suede – and I plopped down on the nearest bench with a few curses for Alice and her obscene love of fashion. She had been the one to mindlessly force me into these death traps, forgetting that we were in London. Cold, rainy, foggy London. Good job, short stuff...

And then, after I finished fretting over my feet, was when I first noticed him.

My eyes drifted slowly over to the figure beside me on the damp wooden bench. He didn't stare back. In fact, I wasn't sure if he had noticed me at all; not that it mattered. I was doomed to be forever invisible. Why would it make a difference now?

As I studied him, my heart jumped to a faster pace in my chest; from fright or something else I couldn't tell. He was pale; so pale he could have been dead. The dark circles that dipped far under his eyes left me shuddering; did he get any sleep at all? Just to reassure myself, I watched his chest expand contract as he breathed; I had no desire to sit next to a corpse, no matter how eerily beautiful it was.

Even from a quick side glance – though mine must have gone on for ages – I was sure he was handsome, definitely too attractive for his own good. His hair was dark, nearly black, from the rain and just long enough to cling to his skin. Not too long, though. When it was dry, his hair must have been messy and honey brown. His closed eyes were rimmed with long lashes that, somehow, didn't make him any less masculine.

He seemed so depressed that it came off him in waves, and I could felt myself drifting into the same dolorous state. It was like looking at a painting of a fallen angel, his wings broken and his eyes sparkling with tears not yet shed. With his posture reminding me of Auguste Rodin's _The Thinker_, he looked like a Greek god – definitely Adonis – deprived of his title and immortality. A broken soul.

I stared at the handle of my umbrella, regarding his waterlogged clothes, before thrusting it from my side and over the poor, drenched man. For what seemed like ages, he sat there, irresponsive. And then, the great sculpture came to life.

I was hit immediately with the unnatural depth of his shining green irises. For a moment, I felt lost in them, drowning in all the darkest shadows of his soul: wisdom, sorrow, diffidence, curiosity, shock, fury. They enveloped me in a sea of jade green, and I knew at that moment this stranger was no ordinary man.

I was only barely aware of my surroundings as he studied me with those hauntingly beautiful eyes. My heart began to beat faster, and I was sure he could hear it, because – although it was merely seconds – his glare seemed to delve deep into my soul, find every weakness, every fear, and expose them for all to see. Somehow, he looked utterly shocked.

And then, with a grimace hidden within a brilliant smile, he gave a gentle tap to my hand holding the umbrella. I was shielded from the rain and not he.

"Thank you, but I don't need your pity," he hissed. I was taken aback and, although I had stiffened and inched away from him, the umbrella somehow found itself over his head once again, courage returned to my lips.

"You'll catch a cold," I barked more harshly than I intended to, gazing at his soaked suit. I waited for him to bark at me again, but I realized he was better than that, that he had a charming side. "Besides, this is London, if I remember correctly. I might not know the area too well... but this shower? It's little a problem."

"How true," he laughed darkly, his head upturning to the gloomy sky. "Shower" was the understatement of the century, seeing as the streets were flooding despite the sewer grates. Still, he didn't point it out – I knew he at least thought it – and I was grateful. Then, his eyes appraised me shamelessly – my cheeks weren't blushing from only the cold – with a sly smile. "Let me repay you for your generosity. Would you do me the honor of your presence over coffee?"

He threw me a dashing smile so quickly that I was startled into silence, fought a blush, and turned away coyly. What a character change! Was this perfect (and I mean perfect) stranger attempting to flirt with me? (And, better yet, I wondered, was he schizophrenic?) I could still feel him staring at my turned back, though it was no lie to say he could easily have been smirking.

Millions of ways to decline his advances were running through my head, each of them brilliant and witty, but none of them made it past my tongue. Not adequate ones, anyway...

"A-actually, I was going to get coffee with my friend, so..." I didn't get to finish, for the man was standing before me, beaming, his hand outstretched to me. When had he gotten there?

"Perfect," he whispered, causing me to blush a deeper red. "Please, let me compensate?"

I weighed my choices, knowing very well that Alice and this man – or just the man, he could be a rapist for all I knew – could be a dangerous combination. Even so, I smiled and stood without his assistance, readjusting the umbrella so it was between us, keeping both our huddled bodies dry.

As we walked, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his dripping suit and, I could have sworn, leaned in closer. I dismissed it as either my own paranoia or an attempt to stay out of the rain; my umbrella was barely big enough for myself, let alone another as well.

"So," the man muttered, trying to take a break from the uncomfortable silence. I stared at him for a moment before turning my eyes back to the once-charming, now annoying and slippery cobblestone path through the park. I needed to be careful, for I was cursed with enough clumsiness for the whole world to share, and falling wouldn't exactly seem endearing.

But then again, why would I care if I seemed endearing to this random stranger? I shrugged it off; no one wants to be embarrassed.

"This is a very enticing conversation," he joked, smiling sheepishly at me. I blushed – yes, again – and nodded; my tongue had been stolen long ago. And then, my stupid, stupid mouth betrayed me.

So brilliantly, I blurted out, "I'm not allowed to talk to strangers." And then, as my brain processed my words – too late – I gasped and my eyes widened, a hand flew to my mouth. "I mean...!"

Barney is a dinosaur from our imagination… I slapped my forehead unnecessarily; bad, bad memories…

"Then allow me to properly introduce myself," the man said as politely as possible as he chuckled at my juvenile words and my masochistic display of violence. "I am Edward Mason, and it a great pleasure to make the acquaintance of such a lovely, stranger-safe young lady."

Edward offered his pallid hand to me, and I blushed as I grasped it. The moment our skin touched, shivers ran up an down my spine, an unfamiliar emotion coursing through my veins. And then, after an uncomfortable moment of utter silence and stillness, his frozen lips were molded against the back of my hand.

I gasped and shivered before he – very reluctantly – let go. As my hand found my side again, I began to believe that somehow my classmates weren't completely delusional. Perhaps there was a romantic element to England; I had just been to cynical to notice it before. Or maybe it was something in the water this "Edward" drank.

"I-I'm Bella!" I barked out, suddenly ashamed of my slightly nasal, very American accent and the informality that came along with it. In fairy tales, princes, knights, and whatnot only saved princesses that were just as beautiful, proper, and interesting as themselves. Honestly, I half expected Edward to snort at my ignorance and stomp off right then and there, nevermind the blasted umbrella.

Instead, he went in exactly the opposite direction. "Beautiful," Edward whispered. Even the sound of his voice gave me gooseflesh. And when I realized he was talking to me of all people, I nearly forgot to breath.

We started walking one more, finally coming to the end of the park, and, consequentially, a crosswalk I recognized. We were heading right towards the coffee house, where Alice would surely be waiting.

Oh, God, if I dared to step foot in the building with Edward, she would start the Twenty Questions; probably right in front of him. There goes any chance I had... not like I did have any. Or that I would ever want to. I knew to stay in my class... and Edward was definitely not part of the Abnormally-Normal-and-Pretty-Broke group.

"Hey, Edward," I said, laughing sheepishly. My hands found their way down to the side of my black trench coat, tugging uncomfortably at the cloth. "Here's a crazy idea. Why don't you forget about this whole compensation thing...? I'm fine, really. Or go and make another girl's day, not that you're making mine or anything," I suggested, only partially hoping he would listed to me. The other part of me was screaming at such a thought; I was the one kind enough to lend an umbrella to a seemingly hot god! I was the one going to reap the benefits!

"Not a chance," Edward said, laughing right back at my suddenly horrified facial expression. "You're different, somehow, from other girls. I like it. All the others are too... needy. Clingy. Shallow. Take your pick."

Taking one look at his obvious disgust, I had to laugh along with Edward. My possessive side was glowing. "Don't blame them," I chided. "You're too handsome for your own good." Ah, too straightforward... Edward noticed, and one of his impeccably shaped eyebrows rose to his forehead. "What? I'm getting glares from every female we pass, and we're a good five inches apart. I think even to touch you would be suicide. Your girlfriend must be extremely daring."

"Girlfriend?" Edward asked, and his eyes laughed at the thought. "I've never really kept one for long. That might be one reason why. Of course, they were always boring, and they weren't at all reserved. Too simply put it, I need a mystery, someone who won't give it all up on a whim."

"But what, besides your obvious looks, makes you so irresistible?" I asked, much more to myself than the man beside me. "Terribly romantic? Too mysterious? A bad boy just waiting to be tamed?"

Edward's only response was a smirk that screamed, "I'll never tell."

"It's all overrated," I scoffed, and Edward sighed, as if any allure he had was gone. Ha. "I mean, I can't even fathom seeing a foreign guy. What's a relationship if you can't continue it? And it's even worse if you can't understand each other."

"_Parlez-vous francais?_" (Do you speak French?) Edward laughed, throwing me a lopsided grin. Somehow, his eyes shone with mild disappointment. "_Vous etes un pessimiste, non?_" (You are a pessimist, no?)

I nodded, thankfully understanding the babble that was the French language. "You're lucky I took three years of French in high school," I murmured. "_De... mere... que vous...?_"

(Bella meant to say "as are you", but she mistook mere, mother, for meme, same, and thus said "of mother that you")

Edward laughed again, grabbing the umbrella in his own hand. When our skin brushed again – fire on ice – his laughed died down, replaced with thick silence. I stared into his emerald eyes, and he down into my brown irises, and, as we stopped our slow prance across the sidewalk, the world just melted away. That is, until a passing car disturbed a large puddle and sent a tsunami-like wave crashing over both of us.

I, the one with common sense, huffed and crossed my arms, annoyed by Edward's unsurprisingly musical laugh once more. How could he find this funny? I had been a nice dry, warm lady just a second ago, and within moments I had turned into a wet cat-like thing, water rushing down my body in streams. Then again, Edward had already been soaked to the bone...

"Ugh, I groaned, sweeping a lock hair that was now near-black off of my face. "Somewhere out there Mlle Beaufort is laughing at me, punished for my horrible French. I don't want to know, but what the hell did I say?"

Edward paused, watching my face for just an inkling of amusement. When he found none, the smirk decorating his angular face lessened just the tiniest bit. My inner self laughed; so pretty boy had a common sense. "You might have referred to me as your mother."

"Oh," I muttered, rolling my eyes. "Well, that wasn't too bad. Paris wasn't the easiest city to visit... especially with a vengeful French teacher watching from Hell." Edward's eyebrows rose substantially – I seemed to puzzle him quite a bit – as he stared down at me. God... was I that short?

"How much traveling have you done?" he asked ever so innocently, but I knew deep down he was hoping to test me on some other language. Little did he know I was so much better at Spanish! Then again... who wasn't?

"I'm currently on a trip around the world with my college class," I answered, thinking back tot he past tourist cities. "I've been to Tokyo, Sydney, Beijing, Hong Kong, Bombay, Athens, Rome, Paris, Milan, Berlin, Dublin, Copenhagen, Lisbon, Barcelona..."

"Wow," Edward exhaled, looking me up and down a few times. "You get around." I sneered at the double meaning, not like he meant it. Hopefully. "Well, we're here." I looked up, and sure enough, there was the sign to the coffeehouse. Twilight Cafe, it read.

He snapped the umbrella shut and held open the door for me, just like a perfect gentleman. I out ruled my bad by theory. The bell jingled merrily as I walked through, then Edward.

"I'll go get us some coffee," he bent down to whisper in my ear, sending shivers down my spine. And then, just as he walked away, Alice bounced over.

"Oh my God, Bella," she squealed, pouncing on me like a lion for the kill. As she latched onto me, I felt the circulation in my arms cut off. Apparently, she didn't realize how iron tight her grip was, and continued ranting. "I thought you had gotten kidnapped! Or tripped and fell down the stairs in the park like that one time in high school!" She pulled away and groaned, finding her shirt soaked. "Geez, you could have warned me that you went swimming in one of the puddles... You're _so_ lucky this blouse is pink, not white."

"Alice," I groaned as she continued to talk my ear off, finally unlatching herself from my waist.

"That was your worst concussion by far! Then again, those stairs were steep… When I got back from shopping and you weren't here... Oi vei, you gave me a hernia!" she muttered, and I followed the path she took back to a table where, unsurprisingly, was a giant pile of numerous shopping bags. "Don't scare me like that, Bella! I thought you had run into a wall or gotten run over by a parked car, or something equally you-ish!"

Just then, a scoff, followed by hushed – though still coherent – laughter erupted from beside us. There, with two cups of coffee in his hands, stood Edward, trying to stifle the near-silent chuckles that managed to escape him anyway.

"You're capable of being run over by a parked car?" he asked in between bursts of laughter. I rolled my eyes and slapped his shoulder – my hand was met with a hardness that should have been concrete – with my still tingling hand.

"In my defense," I muttered sourly, "it was dark. All three times."

Alice took one very long, suspicious look at me, then Edward, and back again at me before her face erupted into a gigantic – and slightly creepy – grin. "Who is he?" she asked in the sweetest voice I had ever heard her use – though her teeth were still clenched into that smug smirk of hers – and I found myself unable to answer, though the first words that would come to me lips would me, "I have no idea. He just followed me here like some pathetic lost puppy." Not a good explanation...

"I'm the man who bought Bella coffee," Edward said, beating me to it. And then, the most handsome smirk yet to be worn crossed his face, and the swoon factor was getting a bit extreme. He handed one of the cups to me, and, still staring at his gloriously smug face, I grasped the source of heat that rivaled the icy coolness of Edward's fingertips; honestly, I preferred his frozen touch.

"Thanks," I muttered dryly – an attempt to brush off any ulterior motives Alice might have been delusional to dream up for either one of us – before staring down at the Sharpie-written order. VCL. Hesitantly, I lifted the top to my lips and took the tiniest sip I could manage, a gagging reflex activated not by the wrong taste or the burning heat, but at the disbelief that Edward had guessed my favorite right on the first try.

"You don't like it?" Edward asked, knitting his eyebrows together in a way that would look horrible on most people. On the contrary, he looked just as perfect as ever. Inward groan. "I could always get you something else; I'd give you mine, but it's the same thing. And I, uh, already drank from it."

"No, no," I said hastily – as soon as I swallowed the burning liquid in my mouth – and smiled gratefully at the concerned man before me. "You guessed perfectly, I was just surprised. Vanilla Cinnamon Latte is my favorite here. It's just... amazing... how you guessed out of all the different drinks..."

"Well," Edward shrugged, "I'm pretty good at reading people – though you're a mystery to me – and it seemed like you. Sweet, but not too sweet, with a hint of spice. Hot," I blushed, "and... authentic," he explained, taking my chin in his hand.

I stared up him with wide eyes, and he smirked. Edward pulled away too soon for my liking, taking the sweet scent of him away as well.

"You know," Edward muttered, "Vanilla Cinnamon is my favorite, too." And then, handing my umbrella back to me and kissing my cheek tenderly, he was out the door within seconds.

"Bella, look!" Alice squealed, pointing to the cardboard cup in my hand. There, between the heat-insulated holder and the cup, was a slip of paper. Upon inspection, a phone number was written in the most beautiful handwriting. And, under that, was Edward's full signature in perfect script: Edward Anthony Mason

Blushing, I looked out the window as a way to mask the scarlet coloring that was soon to become a permanent resident on my cheeks. I achieved no such thing, because there stood Edward just outside the window, beaming up at the dark sky. And, as he turned to go, he gave me a wink and strolled away. Over his head was a dark red umbrella.

"You can stand under my umbrella

Under my umbrella"

-

-

-

Well, how did you like it? That's chapter one. Mysterious, right? No? Okay then, I can take the hint. But isn't Edward just dreamy? Mmm… Brisish… with an accent… Perfection. Ha. (Notice the change in personality? this is prewritten.)

Ok, did anybody find the first reference of the day? You know, besides the ones that I practically handed to you on a silver plate, like Barney, Singing in the Rain, and the Thinker. There are two I'm really leaning towards. Hmm, I use so many references that I think I'll make this a semi-regular thing, like the Wheel of Morality. Anybody get that? Eh, I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up. Oh well. Oh, and if you want to be my beta, for some reason (seeing the chapters earlier...?) then just send me an example of your work and we can talk and maybe you'll get the absolutelt wage-freaa, volunteer job. ;D I'm sure you'd love that.

Review! Thanks. Neko out.


	2. Chapte Two: Demands and Drabble

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight... Or the Incredible Hulk. Or anything else referenced in this chapter...?**

Hello, once again. It's nice to see you. Well, those of you who reviewed, anyway. What is that. Four reviews? Pfft, threee of them were from my friends. So.. I got one legit review. Thanks for showing you love. Thanks a lot. Oh, and I got someone (TheDutchessL) to be my beta, so all of those who just jumped at the mention, I'm sorry. You've lost to her. She's somewhere in Brazil, if you feel angry enough to hunt her down. I'd also give you the address of the friend of Ms. Meyer's that asked for more Jacob, because I'm sure she's on almost every Twihard's hit list as well, but I don't know any of that. I'm pretty sure she's being protected by the secret service now, or else we would've all heard about her brutal murder on the news. Not like any of us Twilight fans watch the news. But when there's somethign about Twilight, we're always there. It's quite creepy, actually. Anyway... Read. Have fun. _**Review**_.

-

-

-

Chapter Two

**Demands and Drabble**

"Come on," Alice whined, grabbing my wrist gently as she pulled me into the suite we shared. "You've put off telling me about the umbrella guy long enough. Spill!"

I sighed and rolled my eyes, trying to ignore how right she was. I had told Alice I'd tell her after we got back to the hotel and I changed from my soaked clothes, then again after we finished studying. And again after dinner… Somehow I had put it off until nine o' clock, and Alice wasn't happy, which didn't bode well for anyone in the vicinity.

Taking one look around the penthouse Alice had begged and bribed for, I snapped on the deadbolt and chain and dragged her over to the large, comfortable couch in the kitchenette-slash-living room.

Alice's father was a lawyer; her mother a doctor. Thus, her family had enough money to swim in, and then some. Not to mention… Alice was an only child. And it's a fact of life that single children are always, always spoiled silly by their parents. It works all the better with rich ones. Yay, Stereotypes!

"He was sitting on a bench in the park," I started. "He didn't have an umbrella and was soaked, so when I sat beside him, I offered him my umbrella. Thus, he insisted in repaying my kindness with coffee. That was it."

Alice sighed, shaking her head at some seemingly obvious mistake I had made. After staring at me, not bothering to hide her disappointment in her gray eyes, she flopped back onto the couch, her short, spiky black hair splaying out as much as it could. I did the same, stretching my long legs over the side so they wouldn't be on Alice, but my mahogany locks fanned out much more, a great contrast to the red satin of the settee.

"But he had an umbrella of his own, he kissed you," Alice finally murmured, breaking the comfortable silence of the room, "_and_ he let his Armani suit get ruined for a chance with you."

"Edward was sitting there like a wet cat -though a very beautiful wet cat with an extremely good pedigree- before I came along," I said. "Something must have upset him…" I thought back to the lost hope in his eyes; the forlorn look that had me quaking in my boots and my heart retching. Oh God, if there was such a thing as love at first sight… No! It doesn't exist. Does. Not.

Alice tugged a lock of my hair to get my attention. "Follow me here, Bella. Armani. He ruined an Armani suit!" She shook her head tragically. "Why do you always date sinners?" I ignored the jab, lost in thought. I wasn't much of a fashion-ista, but any fool would know Armani was a big name brand, and an expensive one at that.

"He had designer shoes, of what brand I couldn't tell, and a Rolex Cellinium watch, too. The tie looked like high quality silk, and his shirt was either Gucci or Armani," Alice babbled on with her detailed outfit evaluation and designer names filled my pounding head. "I haven't seen any of it on the rack, though the design style is obvious to the individual designers. It's definitely haute couture. All of it."

"So, that ruined outfit costs hundreds?" I asked warily, eying Alice, for she had started staring at me like I had grown another head. Then, she burst out into hysterical laughter.

"Hundreds!?" she scoffed, betwixt giggles. "His _socks_ cost hundreds! Think thousands, Bella, thousands!" Alice sighed before settling down once more. "Bella, he's such a score. Rich, foreign, and handsome. He seems really, really nice, too. You two would be the perfect match if you had a fashion sense. But, as my best friend, it will come in time. Any day now you'll wake up with some type of designer spidey-sense or something equally awesome. Now you just have style kryptonite. But oh my Lord, if I didn't have Jasper…"

She trailed off into daydreams, but I knew they were only of the love of her life and fiancé, Jasper Hale. They were close as can be, nearly inseparable. It was a miracle Alice had been pried off of him long enough to come on the trip. She valued Jasper over fashion capitols, a rare occurrence for her. Alice practically breathed fashion, and, although she was rich, she had yet to visit some of the greatest fashion cities until this trip. The Brandon's were rather fond of their little chalet in Volterra, Italy. They were the reason I had my passport in the first place.

Just then, Alice's phone broke out into the chorus of "Untouched" by The Veronicas, the ring tone Alice had set especially for Jasper's cell after leaving.

"Hi, Jazzy baby," I heard her coo into the phone before the soft footsteps away told me she had retired to her own room. I did the same, slipping on a pair of silken Victoria's Secret pajamas Alice had quietly replaced my comfortable, holey pajamas with. I didn't like to think where my comfy pajamas were now, but the phrase 'sleeping with the fishes' came to mind. Speaking of sleeping… I crawled under the downy covers of my king-sized bed.

Alice's chatting was outside in the main room again, quiet and seductive. She all but purred each word out, none of which I would enjoy listening to. Alice talking dirty to Jasper… No. I didn't like that. She and Jasper were never too hormone-dependent. Their bond was deep, and sometimes they'd just stare into each other's eyes for hours, communicating only through deep understanding of their significant other. Either that or they were psychic.

But even they became cranky (not to mention unbearably horny) when separated, something I hated to be true. Back in Arizona where Alice and I went to college, we shared a big apartment with Rosalie, my other best friend, and Jasper's twin sister.

Rose, on the other hand, was very... _physical… _with her boyfriend, Emmett. It was bad enough having to deal with them. For safe keeping, I would lock my door from the inside and pick it with a paper clip whenever I had to get in. But Alice and Jasper acting like wild beasts in heat wasn't exactly fun to deal with. Why was I the only one single?

The door opened, and I realized the talking had stopped. A small, nearly nonexistent plop on my bed told me that Alice had pranced in, probably to pry more secrets from my lips. But no, all I heard a beep, silence, and then something very akin to a train wreck.

"HI, BELLA!" Jasper and Rosalie screamed through the phone, which I discovered to be on speaker, with Emmett creating the background music.

Usually, his "Umbrella" obsession was annoying. Rihanna's version of the song wasn't meant for any straight guy to sing, let alone Arnold Schwarzenegger's rival for buff-ness. Plus, Emmett was horrible at singing. So, naturally, I cringed as he screeched out, "You can stand under my umbrella! Ella, ella, ay ay ay!" at the top of his very powerful lungs.

But today, the song was somewhat ironic and, before I could stop myself, my brain was wandering off on a tangent. A tangent in which Edward starred in.

And then, I realized I had launched myself off of the bed with a scream, and was lying on the floor, clinging onto my fluffy pillow for life.

"Oww," I moaned, "Alice, I hate you." As giggles came over the phone, I glowered at my present best friend. "I hate you all." Suddenly, the floor felt very comfortable. So, I snuggled up to my pillow and began to snore lightly. "Goodnight…"

"No, Bella, don't fall asleep again!" Alice exclaimed, shaking my shoulders. When I opened my eyes, it looked strangely like footage from Cloverfield. Alice was the monster.

"Ugh, Alice, I feel seasick now. Stop shaking me," I grumbled, pushing myself into a sitting position so I could whack Alice with the pillow. She only dodged and hopped up onto my unmade bed. "Stupid eight hour time difference…"

"Tell me about it!" Rose exclaimed, and I could easily picture her rolling her eyes… After a decent length friend ship, I still can't quite figure out she is able to pull off the Valley Girl mantras, but she accomplished it somehow. "You guys had better come back on time, or even better, early. Jasper and Emmett are nice and all, but I miss real girls."

"Yeah, most of you models are fake as Bear Paws," Alice muttered, sighing and flopping onto my bed. Rosalie was a model, just out of college. And yet, she was making above average with her job. After all, she was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. She could probably wear rags and make them look like designer clothes. That was one thing she and Alice had in common. Maybe that's what gave her the Valley-girl right.

"You have no right to complain!" Emmett exclaimed. "This my lunch hour, and I'm talking on the phone like a girl. I could be doing better things, like hanging out in the employee lounge."

"With Rose," I added dryly. "On the pool table. Again." Alice grimaced and made a face at me.

"Oh, eww, I remember that! Emmett got in so much trouble..."

"It was his idea!" Rose shouted defensively. After a long moment of silence, she panicked. "What!? I know any of you would have done it, too!"

Alice smirked evilly, seeing the perfect opportunity. "You know, Bella might have to agree with you. Edward is completely to die for."

"Alice!" I screamed, swinging the pillow at her. This time, I hit her right on target, and she flew off the bed and out of sight in shock.

"WHAT!?" Rosalie screamed, taking the bait. I sighed. I think I could hear my life going down the toilet…. "Oh my God, Bella, spill! Who is this Edward, and is he hot!? If your first time is with an ugly guy, I swear I will kill you!"

"He's so hot!" Alice's bubbly voice wafted from the other side of the bed, earning a grumble from Jasper. "Sorry, baby. He's Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome himself! Not to mention foreign with a great British accent, complete gentleman, and rich! He ruined an Armani suit - gosh, I'm _still_ in mourning - just to get a chance with Bella. So sweet."

"Wow, he sounds so romantic!" Rose exclaimed. "Bella, he's perfect for you if he's half of what Alice says. No offense. You know she's critical of all the guys you settle for."

"It's not a big deal," I murmured. "He's not really that into me. He just repaid me for lending him my umbrella. And I only met him today!"

"Well, now you've got a suitor," Rosalie laughed, and I could hear the smirk in her voice, see her wagging her finger sarcastically my way. "No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted, Bella."

"Thank you, Aesop," I snorted, rolling my eyes even though she couldn't see me. It was habit, unfortunately. "I'm serious; it wasn't anything big. It's not like he professed his undying love for me, and if he had I would have sued him for harassment."

Alice groaned. "Must we go over this? He bought you coffee and gave you his number, which you didn't even ask for. And then he kissed you! Is that an uninterested guy? I think not."

I blushed deeply, glad that Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper were on the _other _side of the line. "My cheek, Alice. We got that a lot in France, and I didn't see you pairing me up with any of those people. He's out of my league."

"Bella, you're hot!" Emmett enthused, the speakers crackling with overdone loudness. Then, he yelped in pain, shrieking like a six-year-old girl, "Rose, Rose, I didn't mean it like that! Let go of the hair, I'm _not_ going prematurely bald! She's my baby cousin's biffle, and yours, I'm required to think she's hot! Oww! She's like my sister, for crying out loud! My baby sister with balance issues! I don't like incest! Southern people scare me! Oww! Jasper, what was _that_ for!? You're not actually southern, you wannabe redneck! Ah, Rosie, Fucking shit, that was my _eye_ you just clawed out! Stop abusing me, woman! Jasper, do you have the police on speed dial!? DATE RAPE!"

"Dumbass, do you _feel_ me sticking anything anywhere!? Are we _on_ a date!? Am I _raping_ you!?" Emmet's voice turned abruptly husky.

"Not yet, baby, but if you wanna get under the table…. Jasper, put your feet on the bench, wouldya, pal?"

Jasper's sigh came across the line. "You disgust me. I'm guessing we're getting kicked out of _this_ restaurant, too? Neat-o complete-o yippee. I actually like the food here…"

"Stop complaining, hillbilly! _I'm _the one being held in a choke hold against my bowl full of boiling hot clam chowder when I could be under the table!"

"Who orders clam chowder at a steakhouse, you dolt?"

"I do, fruity!" Emmett screamed in reply. "Maybe I like to be different! Maybe I like clam chowder! Maybe I'm not afraid to stand up for what's right and declare that my baby cousin's biffle is hot! Maybe I have a dream! A dream that four score and seven years ago…"

"Wrong speech, dumbass. That was the opening of Abraham Lincoln's Gettysburg Address," Jasper hissed, and Emmett's voice came sprawling over the phone again.

"You would know, you stupid Confederate!" he cried. "Maybe I had a dream about four scores and seven years, or maybe I had a dream about alternate dimensions and creepy music! You'll never know, betrayer!"

There was a silence, and then the sound of choking and coughing came across the phone, in which Alice and I both assumed Jasper and Rosalie had attempted to suffocate Emmett in his chowder. We were right.

"I almost drowned! In clam chowder!" Emmett exclaimed. "My face is burning! Damn, why did I put hot sauce in this!? Sure it's as tasty as Hell, but God dammit, it _burns_ when it goes in your eye!"

"That's what you get for lying," I muttered, huffing before curling under my covers and pushing Alice off the bed so I would have foot room. "Talk as long as you want, but I'm going to bed. Mr. Callahan wants us down in the lobby at six thirty."

That was the night I began dreaming of Edward.

-

-

-

"Now, to be able to do profitable business, you must know the culture of the country in question," Mr. Callahan drawled calmly, though I only half-listened to his rants. Yada yada, I had heard it all before. Boring.

My eyes wandered slowly, surely, until finally I stared across the park that gleamed with old world charm. It was where Mr. Callahan preferred to teach; when he had started screaming at Mike – he had shot a spitball at the professor's once-bald head and managed to knock his one and only toupee into the pitcher of Coca Cola – in the Cumberland Boardroom loud enough to annoy the residents on the fourth floor we were, needless to say, promptly banned from stepping foot into any of the bountiful WiFi connected, cozily catered-to meeting rooms (and Mike, feeling disinclined to leave until someone apologized for the soda stain down the front of his "White and Nerdy" t-shirt caused by his own foolhardiness, had been booted out; always a fun sight). That had ruined Mr. Callahan's plans for teaching; until he forced Mike to find him a new teaching ground that didn't involve board rooms, toupees, spitballs, soda, or an oddly dangerous amalgamation of the four.

Basically, a piece of public property big enough to allow Mr. Callahan to yell at his more primal students all he wanted. The park.

The wind began to blow harder and I spluttered as my chocolate locks found their way to my mouth. Once I was void from all hair-eating possibilities, I glanced over at Alice, who stared off into the distance as the breeze caressed her slightly pink face, washing her short, spiky hair back like a waterfall of black. Sigh. She looked like a model; a glamour shot after it had been edited to perfection. Everyone else, however, looked like crazed geese as they held their hair back and chased after their airborne class notes. Jessica's honk came as, I suspected, her papers decided to take a dip in the stream. And then a splash followed.

Alice chuckled and twirled her mechanical pencil aimlessly, smirking at her and my own completely stationary matching spiral notebooks. My Sketchers-clad feet weighed down the blue folder containing everything else, while Alice's giant, _fluffy_ mug of hot chocolate rested atop her own pink one. How she managed to find a fluffy mug was beyond me. For the eight years I had been her best friend, I had learned one thing: don't ask, because you _really_ don't want to know.

Before I knew it, Mr. Callahan stopped his preaching to watch as Jessica attempted to swim in the two-inch trickle of a creek. It sounded like she was drowning. Or having a seizure. Or, sadly, both. In the meantime, she screeched loudly, sufficiently piercing my ear drums, about how cold it was. Really, it was rather mild out; in comparison to the usual British winter, it could easily be a nice spring day.

My ballpoint pen still flew over the paper as I doodled; taking notes wasn't worth it, since I remembered everything he said anyway. That skill had developed halfway through high school and came in handy.

Uninspired by the bright puffy clouds, I sketched darker ones with large, shiny raindrops falling. Then, an umbrella followed. I loved drawing umbrella's. Finally, two figures were drawn under it. One was I, and the other seemed fairly recognizable, with the most amazing hair I had ever drawn on a stick figure. Unconsciously, I had drawn the scene that had played throughout my head for the past three days; every moment since my encounter with Edward.

Why had he even flirted with me in the first place? God, he was handsome… Isn't it a sin to be that hot? Note to self: reread through the United Kingdom laws… It might be time for my first court case: suing Mr. Mason for being to irresistibly hot. That could get me millions! Millions, I say!

But out of all the questions surrounding aforementioned British dreamcake - nom - the loudest one had to be, "Why the Hell haven't I called him yet!?" I mean, I kept the phone number… In fact, it rested right under my ID in my wallet… and on the speed dial of my phone. Then again, that wasn't much of a sin, since my phone automatically assigned a number to each contact. Edward was number sixty-three. However, knowing that certainly didn't make me look any less interested.

Oh well.

"Hey, Alice," I whispered as Mr. Callahan helped a dripping Jessica out of the stream that barely existed. For all the insanity that went on in this class, we weren't able to talk. "What do you have planned for later?"

Alice only shrugged, letting her eyes wander over to my "notes". With a smirk she shook her head and sighed. "You really should call him."

"It hasn't been enough time," I argued. "I don't want to look clingy. Edward hates girls like that!" Indeed he did. Why should I give him a reason to avoid me when, truly, we had only met? It's not like I cared… okay, hardly cared. But why go out of my way to look as desperate as Alice was beginning to think I was? Pointless.

"It's been a week, Bella!" Alice exclaimed in frustration. "The rule is three days, not a year! I'm sure Edward wouldn't mind if you called him. Here's an errant, wild thought, but maybe he gave you his number for exactly that reason!"

Growling, I batted at Alice's shoulder playfully, for there was no use trying to hurt her. It never worked… "I really should have given him my number. It would be easier, you know. He could call when he thought appropriate…" Trailing off, I glanced down the path again.

There was but one figure in the distance, and, despite my wishes, it probably too short to be Edward… Though, it's hard to tell from such a distance. Damn.

Jessica stomped past Alice and I, spluttering as water droplets rolled down her body. I tried to hide my giggles, which ended coming out in a particularly loud snort, and scooted closer to Alice as to steer away from the spray that came off of my irritated classmate with the wind. How someone could get so wet from a trickle of water was beyond even me….

"I hate outdoors," Jessica whimpered as she took her seat between Lauren and me. With a sigh I pushed Alice over more and into Angela, who in turn rammed into Ben. Once Ben was pushed, the thump of Eric falling off the overcrowded bench reached my ears and I smirked. This was the result of attempting to fit eight people – Mike was on Lauren's other side – onto one small bench.

Mr. Callahan, oblivious to Jessica's cursing, Eric's loss of a seat, and the slightly wet asses of Lauren and myself - a certain soaked someone's personal puddle was spreading throughout the wood - continued his lecture.

Only when the sun began to set and Jessica's curses _really_ picked up did the professor take notice of the time, cutting off his speech in mid-sentence and unceremoniously walking off. It took a few minutes for everyone to realize class was over – though he did this quite often, actually – and we walked as a crowd towards the hotel we called home. Or whatever you'd rather call it.

Alice was the first to reach the elevator and also the first to jab every single button. With a sigh, I stood in silence. Every so often a, "Bye, Bella!" would reach my ears, and I would wave half-heartedly. It was an involuntary reaction, for my mind was… elsewhere.

Finally, the elevator reached the top floor – which happened to hold all the suites – Alice and I were the only ones left in the elevator. A ding awoke me from my near-comatose state and I trudged out after Alice, who was blubbering about a pair of Sergio Rossi boots she couldn't find.

Said munchkin hopped on over to the front door of our suite and, with the speed of the yellow Porsche she had back in Phoenix, slid the key card into the automatic slot. A second later it beeped and Alice was already inside the main lobby.

"I'm hungry!" she exclaimed as I followed her, not quite at the breakneck pace she bounced through the room. Instead, I carefully traced a circle around the abstract glass figurine in the middle of the entrance, making sure I was as close to the dark blue wall so if I happened to trip there would be no casualties to Alice's – or my, for that matter – bank account.

"You're slow!" Alice barked as I entered the lounge room. She had already sat herself down on one of the two brown arm chairs and hugged a deep red pillow to her chest. On the coffee table before her was the customary black leather book that every hotel had – you know, the one with all the best restaurants and etcetera in it.

I groaned and plopped onto the sofa. Alice always got like this when her stomach beckoned: ill-tempered and not witty enough to form sentences with more than three words. "I am aware of this, Alice," I muttered.

"Pick restaurant," she snapped. "Five stars."

"Alice hungry," I grunted, mimicking the Hulk in all his illiterate, greenified awesomeness. "Alice smash!" With another feral grunt I brought my hands, now curled into fists, down onto the mahogany table. And then, I squeaked as yet another glass vase toppled off the table and onto the floor with a loud smash.

"Pick damn restaurant!" Alice screamed, thrusting the book in my face. Instead of getting angry, I laughed and pulled it away, staring at the titles and trying very, very hard not to imagine just how much that vase was going to cost me.

"Alice form coherent sentence!" I exclaimed with a snort. Alice's nostrils flared out in impatience, and I was reminded distinctly of a kitten that thinks he's a lion. "And, uh," I paused to drop my finger on the nearest name, "this one! The Host?" I laughed, for that had to be the most science fictional name I had ever heard, and looked at the description underneath.

The Host has been reviewed as one of the Top Ten Modern British Restaurants by numerous critics, prided in its food, atmosphere, and service. Naturally, its food is worth the price.

- Aaden Whitlock, _This is London_

Shrugging, I put the book back down. It could have been worse. I mean, Modern British cuisine isn't notorious for giving the masses acid reflux, now is it? So I grabbed Alice's wrist – she was rocking back and forth from lack of nourishment – and pulled her towards the exit.

"This is definitely something," I muttered as, a short cab ride, and few fluent strings of curse words a sailor would pale at, and a very long wait for a table later, Alice and I were led to our table by a guy who kept making eyes at the short girl beside me. For a moment, he caught my glaring eye, too, and blushed even worse than I ever could. I softened my stare; he might just implode if he turned any redder. Somehow, I knew I had been in the same boat before. You know, on the whole imploding thing. Not staring at Alice's boobs.

Still, I didn't like how his eyes traveled past mine – down to far for modesty – and how he looked nearly ten years younger than me. God, even thinking that made me feel old...

"Keep your eyes to yourself, perv," I hissed to the boy. He in turn flushed the color of a maraschino cherry and looked away... to Alice. "Shorty there is engaged, if you'd care to look at her hand instead of her chest, and actually over the legal drinking age, despite the fact that we both know twelve-year-olds taller than her."

Alice, who had been out of it from the time she stormed, glanced over to me for a moment, shocked by audacity, before turning to glare at the host. "Leave the guy alone, Bells," she said in mock reproach, "he has enough zits to deal with."

Despite her insinuation – and the fact that she was completely right about the his face – I laughed and nodded to the boy who was suddenly seeming very enduring. After he looked down to my own ass, I gave that a second thought; he was just a normal, hormonal teenage guy who had a bit too much forwardness.

"Eyes in your head if you value them, kid," I still warned, because God help me if I let anyone treat me like something to please the perverted eye. Finally, the kid did as he was told, promptly stopping at a table for two and setting our menus down.

"Your server will be with you in a minute, ladies," he murmured quietly before dashing off, probably to ogle a few others of the female persuasion. I rolled my eyes; he was a typical guy. At least Edward was kind enough not to, well, stare. Blatantly.

Alice's giggle put me out of my thought process, and I looked up from the menu – which I hadn't remembered picking up – to glare at her. "And you thought I was pissed," she laughed, sarcasm heavy in her chipper tone. "There's another thing that ticks you off."

"There are some good guys in the world," I muttered, looking down at the appetizers again, "those who can control their hormones, I mean. Unfortunately, they're almost impossible to find."

"You've got the phone number of one," Alice reminded me in the singsong voice she used for wheedling. Jasper was a strong man. I blushed, rubbing the pocket where my phone sat dormant before sighing. "Tell me what's his number for speed dial again... Was it forty-three?"

"Sixty-three, Alice," I corrected her automatically. I didn't even bother to fix that, because I knew, even without looking up, that my best – and shortest – friend was smirking endlessly. "I have more than forty-three numbers. Honestly, who do you think I am, you?"

"Are you insinuating that I have no personal life?" Alice snapped, and I knew I had hit a nerve. Both she and Rose cared greatly about their social standing. "You know I just got a new phone, because you're the one who fed my last one to the elephants!"

"I'm sorry Mr. Callahan believes to know the Indian culture you _must _ride an elephant," I snapped, "and I apologize for texting exactly what you told me to while you held on for dear life! It wasn't my fault the elephant got spooked by Eric's face, and it's not my fault I abandoned your phone for my life!"

"You didn't have to throw my phone directly into the mouth of Mike's elephant," Alice whined, "though I do admit it was funny when it ended throwing him off. Who knew elephants bucked?"

"Hilarious," I drawled. "A phone was completely worth it. Especially since it was your phone." Alice gasped in mock offense. "I think the lamb ball sounds nice, don't you?"

"Almost as nice as my old phone was," Alice snapped, but I could see a smile on her face as she flipped to the page that I was looking at. "Almost as nice as that poor elephant was. Of course, any sane creature would be slightly temper mental if she swallowed a cell phone and had it ringing in her nonstop for three days. She's lucky I hadn't thought to charge it that day."

"She just doesn't like Shakira," I muttered, taking a look at another cluster of dishes. "No one does."

Alice rolled her eyes and stomped on my foot. "I was gonna change that ring tone," she defended.

"Alice, take a lesson from your hips, and don't lie."

"Ha. Ha. You know I had been going through dark times when I purchased it. You're the one who convinced me to sign up for this class."

"And thank God for that," I said, the sarcasm suddenly leaving my voice. "I couldn't survive without someone, even if they were able to hold a grudge for three months just because I accidentally fed an elephant their phone."

"You know I forgave you a long time ago," Alice cooed sadly. "I just miss little Elliott, you know that. Timothy doesn't work half as well as he did." When I finally looked up from the menu to stare at her, she scoffed. "Oh, like you don't name your electronic devices."

"I don't," I murmured. Alice shrugged, and I followed suit. Just then, a waiter approached the table, a wide smirk on his face. When I finally turned to pay attention, I was met with a set of deep brown eyes.

There, standing at the chair-less end of the table, was a somewhat burly - and by this I meant that whenever he moved, his chest threatened to blow up from pressure and his biceps rippled like a waterbed that had been poked just a bit too hard - man in a black chef's coat and a matching dark toque blanche. His dark brown, nearly black, hair spilled from under the white pillar hat as he stared solely at me.

"I'm Jacob, and I'll be your server, since we're incredibly low on employees tonight," he said smugly, his smile directed towards me, probably staring right through my deceptive look to the confusion behind it. Why was he staring at me? Did I have something on my face?

"Hello-o-o, hot, British nurse," I heard Alice whistle appreciatively in the background, and I rolled my eyes. Alice. Go fig.

"Thanks," I said dryly, glancing at the drink list and trying to overcome the uneasiness rising in my stomach. Gosh, he was only a guy… With bountiful, rippling muscles... Hormones! And how did I deal with this? By ordering alcohol. "I'll have a bottle of Newcastle Brown and a glass of water."

After Mr. Universe jotted down my drinks, Alice chirped, "Sherry and a water, if you don't mind!" And with a nod, he disappeared. Once he was definitely out earshot, Alice asked, "Decent guy number two, perhaps? Gosh, who cares if he's decent, he's hot! The muscles…"

I scoffed and leaned back into my chair. Alice shrugged and went back to searching for her meal-to-be. When Jacob came back and placed the glass in front of me, I sighed and took a small sip.

Now, I had never been one to drink. In fact, I was so intolerant to alcohol that my mind soared from the tiny dose. But I decided I might as well broaden my horizons. I wasn't out there to become the world's number one drunkard, but worldwide travel like this was a rare opportunity, and it's only common sense to attempt an experience every so often.

And, I had to admit, this beer was about ten times better than that cold American junk. Not that, you know, I enjoyed it. That much. Irish whiskey was better. No wonder the leprechauns were always drunk...

And maybe I was beginning to get intoxicated, too, because never in a million years would that thought come out of my mind unless I was under the influence. I am not Alice. And, yet again, the idea of being drunk came up when I discovered I didn't really give a damn. Was that, I thought to myself, the essence of irresponsibility!? God forbid Bella Swan was ever irresponsible, her head just might blow up! She would enjoy watching that. Oh, gosh, referring to myself in third person… Definitely drunk.

This would be an interesting night…

"I can't live my life always worried about what if

'Cause what if I die tomorrow

Then I'd never even lived."

-

-

-

Fwee, more Prof. Callahan drabble, explanations, etcetera. And what, do I spot a mutt? Yup, Jacob was introduced. As if you don't know this already… xD I like stating the obvious. Will he be a major part of the story? Will I delete his existence? Will we ever see him again? Most people hope not, I would think, if they're reading an Edward/Bella pairing story. But sometimes things don't turn out quite as we wanted… And that is what makes a story brilliant. Or, you know, extremely painful to read, if you're talking about _Wuthering Heights_. God, that book was horrible. And painful. And the characters _were_ insufferable. Never ask Bella for book advice.

**Hisssss… Jacob. Mutt. Oh. Hello there. I am here to take this story, and make it what I want it to be. Some people call me L. Others call me Esperanza. Some People call me Maurice.** (Maurice…? That's a new one. Everyone, this is TheDutchessL…)** Nearly everyone calls me Evil.** (Be afraid. Be very afraid.)** But you… you, dear reader may call me… BETA.** (Damn. Bad choice.)** And I will be here to maintain, keep it real, and other clichés. And I am in bold. Cause I am bold.** (Unless if you're, you know, thinking realistically.)** We shall meet again, lovies…**

Enough with my loverly attempt at creating for myself a mysterious aura, ***snort* **(Oh, shut up!) to things that actually make a difference… (Not really, but…) There actually is a magazine called, "This is London." Actually, it's really helpful to a wanker such as me. It has music, restaurant, and film reviews, as well as a guide to clubbing, art exhibits, sports, and other events. Before this turns into a commercial, I'm gonna stop raving. I originally picked "This is London" because, well…

"This is madness!"

"Madness? This is SPARTA!"

Yup. That's why. Well, that and I've been listening to the techno remix all week. That movie was funny. And disgusting… Ugh. Meet the Spartans… sigh. Anyway…

Yeah, I used _The Host_. So sue me. But really, I couldn't think of anything else. And, since it was a sci fi listed book, I tried to find something as contemporary as possible. It was either Modern British, Vegan, Fusion cuisine. So… British made the most sense. Neither Alice nor Bella are vegan, or even vegetarian (I know they're different things, I don't mean to offend), so that would be kinda pointless. **Actually, Bella is vegetarian.** (Not in my story. I'm not changing everything!)** Watch the dvd with the commentary.** (I'm not that obsessed.)** As am I. Build the bridge of vegetarianness: Bella(Pansy)** (Parkinson?)**-----Beta(Evil)-----Hitler(CrAzY, Jesus talks to me, sickens the evil-evil.) **Furthermore, I was too lazy to take the time to find a Fusion restaurant menu to get ideas from. Can you believe how few there are? Hmm, I guess you can.

Reviews are what love is made of. (I rhymed.) So please, my friends, my inspirations, the lights of my life - too far? Yeah, too far… - please, click that button and do the world a favor! And me. Don't forget me.

**And Me. Do not forget the deliciously evil, the wonderful, the Voldy but female and less homosexual- BETA.** (…)


End file.
